the worth of a life

It's been a very long time since I've written.  I apologize.  Between work, school, and play... and because I've been scrambling to keep current with schoolwork, I haven't felt free and clear to blog.  I feel like it's been a long time though.  I'm not sure if I'll be way out of practice or if I'll have anything coherent to say.  But... I figure I'll try anyway.  Why not give it a shot? 

I feel... tired.  I told someone a few months ago (and I also may have blogged it...I can't remember) that I feel like I'm treading water and my nose is barely hovering over the surface... that I'm barely keeping afloat.  Sometimes my whole mouth is above water... sometimes the water is just barely beneath my nostrils... but I'm still treading.  I'm still moving.  I'm tired but not spent yet.  Sustained day by day.  I think that's how I'd describe it.  I still feel like this... I think I've felt like this ever since I went back to school. 

I never got a chance to write out my thoughts about The Upper Room Interview.  It went online in early May.  At first, I could barely stomach the sight and sound of myself.  It was so painful to see my own face on the computer screen, so painful to hear my voice... to watch myself speak.  It wasn't even the content that was painful... it was watching and hearing myself that made me so uncomfortable I had to look away the first few times I tried to watch it.  And then I always wonder, "Is this what ppl have to look at when I talk to them? Ew." And to my friends, I say in my head, "Thank you for bearing through it and thank you for being my friend despite having to look at this face and hear this voice. Ick. I'm so thankful to have you in my life." 

Somewhere into the story though... I start to get used to the sound of my voice and the nuances of my facial expressions (or lack thereof)... and when I start to cry in the interview... I always start to cry in real life.  It's quite an interesting experience to cry with myself...facing my own face on the screen. Like some kind of out-of-body experience. By the end of the interview... I end up getting used to myself and I actually wish that I could listen to her talk more about Anderson and about life.  She looks so calm and she tells the story so well.  Even though I know it and I've heard it so many times... heck, I've lived through it... it somehow seems different listening to myself telling it.  I get sucked into my own life's story and how amazing it is.  I almost wish there was an uncut, total and complete version that I could watch...not just what I taped that day... but the whole story...start to finish... or at least up until now.  Like the DVD extras or something.  Behind the scenes... and then the blooper reel.  That's what I enjoy the most about watching a DVD or Blu-ray... the extras.  LOL. 

Anyway... so I've watched the interview quite a few times since it was posted.  I... remember thinking to myself... I wonder what people will think... I wonder what will stand out to them about our story... I wonder what will come from this experience... the value of it all... I wondered a lot of things.  I still wonder about these things.  I haven't had much time to think about it... contrary to what the length of this blog entry may suggest. 

So... I've been keeping a collection of thoughts over the past month... I'm not sure if the collection has gotten dusty but I'll try to get it out as best I can.  I have lost all sense of time since I've been "treading" to survive.  I partially watched a movie called Journey from the Fall with some girls from my care group while I was studying for my chemo certification.  It's in Vietnamese so I could only get the gist of the movie from the subtitles that I read in between looking up chemo drugs, but even with the just the gist... I was deeply impacted by the film.  From what I gathered, the movie had 2 parts: the first was showing the plight of the people through the Vietnam war or some kind of communist...something... and the second part was how the whole experience impacted their lives after immigrating to the U.S. 

The first part of the movie was set in Vietnam. It reminded me a lot of the Holocaust.  The way people were hunted, pillaged, and ravaged... the way families were torn apart... the way civilized people were reduced to the desperation of starvation... and how finding a beetle was like finding gold... they argued over who would get to eat the butt and who would get the head.  It made me cringe because (1) I can't stand bugs, much less eating them... and then eating them while they're still moving... and (2) to see people reduced to the point of utter devastation... was so difficult to watch. 

The second part of the movie, after the survivors had made it to the U.S., was impactful in a different way.  The story followed a woman, her mother-in-law, and her son.  The woman was without her husband... not knowing whether or not he was still alive... the son without his father... the mother-in-law without her son as well.  The complexities of going on living in spite of catastrophic loss and traumatizing events... and the insensitivity of those who don't know their story and who don't care to understand their struggle and their pain... was also difficult to watch.  There was very little communication going on... life was droning on... colorless and dry.  The woman went to work.  The boy went to school... kept getting picked on, kept getting into fights and other trouble and he also kept getting blamed and scolded by the principal for unexplained bad behavior.  The bottling up of emotions and feelings went on for a while... until one day everything exploded.  There was yelling, there was screaming... mean things were said with tears... the son yelled in frustration at his mother... demanded to know why it seemed like she had forgotten his dad... the mother-in-law was screaming at the mom to take care of her grandson and also voicing her own pain at the loss of her son... and something the mother said really stood out to me... she said that that who she is now is just a shell of the person she was...and that she died a long time ago.  

I cried.  I cried pretty hard.  So many emotions were stirred in my heart.  The journey of a grieving widow always gets to me.  And then the son who would grow up without his father... the mother-in-law who had to deal with the complex emotions of having outlived her child. It's just not the way things are supposed to be.  And then I wondered how I was going to allow it to impact my life... and I decided that I didn't want to be someone who was judgmental and who was insensitive to the plight of another person.  Maybe someone has gone through a traumatic experience like this... maybe they haven't... maybe their behavior is just an expression of repressed grief... maybe it's something else... but either way... to try to give people the benefit of the doubt... and understand that... everyone has their reasons for doing what they do... and it is not my place to judge... cuz I am far more ignorant than not.  Realistically, the most difficult people I come in contact with nowadays are at work.  I've been trying to remind myself that Mr. Stinky didn't refuse his bed bath for absolutely no reason... that he probably had his reasons, logical or not, and that his reasons probably aren't to torture me with his stench.  It helps sometimes to try to look at things like that... sometimes. 

I also went to visit a Messianic Jewish temple on a day when they had a Holocaust survivor as a special speaker.  Hearing her stories about the gestapo, how her family was ripped apart... how they were also once civilized people... reduced to living like animals in the ghettos... fighting for rotten food thrown on the floor... stealing when they could... and just how cruel and heartless the Nazis were... reminded me about the Journey from the Fall... and also about how little value they held in a human life.  People... real people... were exterminated like bugs... thrown into mass graves like refuse... someone's mother, someone's father... someone's sister or brother... devalued simply for being who they were... which was Jewish... God's chosen people. 

The Holocaust survivor is an amazing woman.  She attributed to God the "coincidences" and miracles that conspired to keep her and her sister alive through the Holocaust and Auschwitz.  It was amazingly impactful to hear her share her story.  She didn't profess to believe in Jesus, the Messiah, but... she's still alive for a reason... and that means God's not done with her yet. 

I read this today... reminded me of the whole ordeal... my interview, the widow in the movie, and the Holocaust survivor's story...

I will not die, but live,
And tell of the works of the Lord.
The Lord has disciplined me severely,
But He has not given me over to death.  Psalm 118:17-18

I did not die when I lost the love of my life... I lived.  Correction... I live.  And I live to tell of the works of the Lord. There must be a reason why I'm the one that's still here. There must be a reason for all the things that have happened to me.  There must be something that I've been prepared for... as a nurse, as a woman, as a widow... some purpose, uniquely mine, for why I am in this exact place, at this exact time.  I'm journeying through life for a reason... and that reason gives me purpose and worth. Things don't happen aimlessly or haphazardly... God always has His reasons and they are not to torture me... they are to prosper me and it is the same for every other life on this planet. The worth of my own life... the worth of others' lives... are all valuable and that value should be respected.  And not merely respected... but... loved.  Having a high view of the worth of a life... comes from loving God and subsequently loving what He loves... and God loves people.  He absolutely, hands down, without a doubt... loves people.  He loved people enough to die for us.  That is the greatest kind of love in existence... self-less, unconditional love. 

It's a strange phenomenon... when you love someone you kind of just begin to love what they love. Things that I've grown to love because Anderson loved them... baseball, batting cages, bowling, Brazilian food... his family... it just kinda... happened.  When our hearts and souls became one... we loved as one... in compound unity.  Not always... but... it's something... strange...but lovely.  How something that brought him joy would also bring me joy... how the things he delighted in became things that I delighted in as well.  We shared in each others' delights... we shared in each others' joy.  I don't really understand it but it was a beautiful thing to experience.  I wonder... if we loved each other... if loving one another also increases our love for ourselves?  I know the Bible says:

In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies.
He who loves his wife loves himself. ^{Ephesians 5:28}

 Hm.  Something to ponder.  Giving love... is that how you receive it most purely? 

Alritey... I'm not sure if I'm done thinking things through but I'm done for now.  It felt nice to write again.  Hope it made sense...

goodnight...
<3,
Tiff

The Upper Room Interview

Here it is... for all of you who have (or have not been) waiting for it...

The Upper Room Interview - Till Death Do Us Part 

Thank you, Yealee...
<3,
Tiff

car stuff, skin stuff

What?!? It's only been like 10 days since I last posted?  It feels like a lot of time has passed.  I guess when of the 10 days, I've worked 6 of those nights and had to endure finals week somewhere in between too... 10 days seems like a very long time.

I don't feel like thinking very hard.  I just have a few thoughts swirling around and I wanted to get them out.  I wrote a little bit when I got home from work yesterday morning.  Only yesterday morning.  Yesterday feels like a few days ago already.

I seem to feel the need to write after working 4 shifts straight.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe it's my stress relief.  Maybe it's a natural result of having to put my life on hold for 4 days... a lot of stuff just needs to come pouring out.

I think I've been stressed lately.  I can't be sure but... if I feel like I'm just barely surviving from one day to another... precariously on the verge of sinking but somehow sustained by some buoyancy which keeps my nose hovering just above the surface of the water.. barely enough to allow me to breathe but not enough to allow me to breathe very deeply... it's definitely a sustaining grace that I can only attribute to God.  This God-given buoyancy will not allow me to sink... but maybe right now... it's also not enough to carry all the weight I keep wanting to place on my shoulders. It's just enough for me and my needs. I think I need to rest... and I need to let some things go.  I'm not sure what.  I just don't want to burn out.

Ok anyway... so this is what I wrote yesterday morning:

I just finished four shifts in a row... I came home and decided to wash my car... and then decided to wash my mom's car... and while I was doing it I figured I might as well wax them and wash the rims and clean the tires.  I'm definitely NOT a morning person but there's something about doing manual labor really early in the morning... with the briskness of the morning air filling my lungs... the quiet of a neighborhood still in slumber... and then the gratification of washing my car for the first time in four months (I know... it's appalling)... and making something dirty and dusty... clean and shiny again... it made me feel quite happy.  I couldn't believe I had the energy to clean.  But... now that it's done and my arms are sufficiently exhausted... my brain won't shut down.

As I was waxing my car... I was forced to examine the exterior pretty closely... section by section... and I noticed a lot of things.  I was pretty sure I had not hit as many things while in the driver's seat as the evidence suggests... many of the dings and scratches must have either happened while my car was parked or while I wasn't paying attention.  Certain things I know I've committed... by accident... and the evidence is blaringly there... the ramifications of my carelessness or my Asian-female driving has left blemishes and scars on my car and my rims. 

I remembered a time when I would agonize over every little dent or a scratch.  Now... I don't think I'm callous to them... I just figure that... it's a part of having, owning, and driving a car.  As I did my final inspection... the microfiber towel in hand... gliding across the exterior of one of my most relied-upon and useful gifts that bears title to my name (I don't even think that made sense...)... I was so very thankful to have my car.  I know I'm crazy and I talk to my belongings.  I'm not an only child.  I'm not friendless... but sometimes my objects are so personal and meaningful to me... they're like my friends.  I talk to my cupcake bear.  I talked to my bag of cheez-its the other day.  I do tend to talk to my drinkware quite often.  Very attached to my drinkware.  Anyway... so I was talking to my car.  More like thinking to my car but... just appreciating her for being there for me... for carrying my things... for taking me to far-away places... for enabling me to get to work every week.. for never breaking down on me... for taking a beating when I'm not looking... we had some good times together... and we'll undoubtedly have more.  I was glad to have her there for me.  

Something I read a few days ago has been stuck in my mind as well.

The LORD will tear down the house of the proud,
But He will establish the boundary of the widow. Prov 15:25.

Something about the tenderness of God towards widows always moves my heart.  I'm very attentive to the widows or the mention of widows in scripture.  Back in the day when a woman's security and livelihood depended on the men in their lives... to be widowed was to be desolate.  To be widowed and then to have your only son pass away... was double desolation.  To be widowed and have two sons pass away... that was ultimate desolation and worthy of changing your name to Mara (or bitterness).

Four ppl in the past few days have asked me different variations of the same question, "don't you want a family?"  I thought about what the loss of Anderson has truly meant to me.  It was not just losing my husband... it was losing the life we had together... the dreams we dreamt... our future and all the hope I had invested in "us"... the security of having him take care of me and our household.  I'd lost the dream of having him father my children... the family we could have had together... "growing old" together... forever.  I understand a little bit of the desolation.  The more I pondered the desolation of loss... the more I realized that... I have been well-taken-care of.  My boundaries have been established.  And while the widows back in the day depended on the mercy of those around them... they did have to live by faith... and I'm sure that some of them grew bitter and wretched in their widowdom... but I'm also sure that some were refined in their desolation... in their poverty... who grew to become pillars of faith... thankful for every little bit they were given... and also, just as readily... giving it back... knowing that even if I only have 2 mites to live on... if I invest my 2 mites to the Lord... He will establish my boundary and provide for my every need.  Yes, I might want a family, but what I have now is what I need.  And I'm making the most of what I've got when I've got it... and what I've got is time, I think.

The Widow’s Offering - Mark 12:41-44 (NIV)

  ⁴¹ Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. ⁴² But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.

 ⁴³ Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. ⁴⁴ They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.”

I'm thankful for my life lessons that have taught me more about faith.  I've learned so much about faith through the situations I've encountered these past 21 months or so in my journey through widowdom.  I'm also thankful for the wear and tear I've collected along the way.  The dings and dents in my car don't really make my car run better... but they don't inhibit functionality either.  They're minor.  Getting beat up along the way means that I'm using my car... I'm being exposed to the elements... I'm living life, gaining invaluable experiences...  Not a perfect analogy.  OK switching gears... another thing that I've been thinking about lately...

I heard something twice on the radio on the way to work... sometime in the last 10 days.  I'm pretty sure if I heard it twice... God really wanted me to hear it.  I don't remember who was speaking... but I remember the gist of what he said and a few lines stuck out to me:

Advance. Engage the enemy.

These are action words.  They're not just suggestions to "proceed with caution".  To advance and to engage implies being on the offensive... being first to make a move... no fear.

OK.  This might be kinda weird but... I'm going to relate this to... my battle with zits... and also to sanctification.

I've had pretty decent skin my whole life.  I used to wonder why people had to wear makeup.  Um... now I know.  I think I've had a few zits here and there... they got a lot better when I was in Houston since I was sleeping a whole lot... and it was OK once I came back to California... but once I started working... I started breaking out like no other.  These zits were coming with a vengeance and before one would leave, another one would come.  I could not keep up.  I was able to manage them fairly adequately... and then somehow after my birthday this past year... omg.  They came back with a vengeance again.  It was painful, hideous mountains of bright red blemishes.  I was so self-conscious.  I used to use makeup for like... special occasions... but it got to the point where I was too self-conscious to leave the house without it... and I actually went out and bought concealer because my foundation wasn't enough.  This is new to me.  Tiff, in her late 20's, was forced to fight a battle with acne.  Heartbreaking.

Maybe my life is so "interesting" because I'm so dramatic about these little things that happen to me.  Anyway... so my skin issues have become more of a priority to me lately.  Things were just about getting hopeless... when God provided me with an awesome friend to help me battle my acne.  She is a skin expert.  An aesthetician.  What an answer to prayer.  She analyzed my skin and put me on a regimen.  This was more detailed than any other skin care plan I've ever been on.  There are steps.  There's timing.  There's this before that.  There's fine tuning and adjustments that need to be made.  And it takes a lot of time.  A lot more than I used to spend on my skin.  If I had to describe what we did together... it was definitely advancing or engaging this enemy... a very active method of tackling this problem from multiple angles, in different directions... and then waiting to see how my skin responds.

I have this machine now that uses sonic vibrations to help cleanse the impurities in my skin.  I somehow feel like it takes a long time to use this machine... so I have "time" to think while I'm moving this brush in circular motions all over my face.  A few other lines that I remember from the sermon I've heard twice... was that the answer to spiritual laziness is discipline.  I definitely think that it takes discipline to keep to this skincare regimen.  It takes faithfulness.  It takes preparation and planning... and then you just gotta suck it up and do it.

It took a while to start seeing results.  In fact, when it comes to skin stuff... sometimes it gets uglier before it gets better.  But once it gets better... it gets a lot better.

I think it's the same for sanctification as well.  If I asked God at the beginning of Lent... to get rid of the idols that threaten His supremacy over my life... then I should not be surprised that it got really ugly as He was revealing stuff to me.  Stuff that I had maybe covered up with concealer... stuff that I was hiding under my bangs... dings and dents that I never stopped to inspect but once I started... all those things came to the surface and it was pretty darn ugly.  I've gotten more angry and frustrated in the past two months than I have in a VERY long time.  I've done things and said things out of spitefulness that make me ashamed to be me.  But what's done is done, what's said is said.  There is definitely a lot of wisdom in being quick to listen and slow to speak.  It's been rough.  The battle has been brutal... but it's looking like things are taking a turn for the better.  I'm looking fwd to when my joyful heart makes a cheerful face and good medicine for others... and looking to leave behind the broken spirit that dries up bones and is unbearable to those around me.

If I had to whittle down my activities to just one thing... it would be to pursue God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength.  It is just one thing... and yet it is so weighty that it consumes the whole of me.  And what does it look like in my life?  It manifests in a lot of ways.  But most of all... I think it requires that I take everything I've got... my 2 mites... my sling and a few rocks... and I take a step out in faith to engage the enemy that threatens the armies of the Living God.  Even if I buy fancy products or use a sonic brush cleaner thing... the power behind healing my zits still comes from God.  The power isn't so much in the mites, or the sling or the rocks... but it is how mightily the tiny things can be used when I step out in faith to discipline myself to do it. I think I'm mixing all my metaphors.  This is definitely NOT the most clear post ever.  And I'm actually getting kinda tired... so I think I'll stop now.

I don't even know what to name this post.  It's all over the place.  Maybe I should have separately talked about sacrifice and then about sanctification.  OK.  Maybe next time.

<3,
Tiff

watchu want?

Oh my, oh my.  I thought I was poopered out but something was on my mind and it just wouldn't go away.  I'm warning you this post might be crazy all over the place.  Read at your own risk. 

I've spent nearly every waking minute of the past few days working on my final paper for my class.  I wrote before I went to work, I wrote in between work and church, I wrote until I fell asleep, I wrote when I woke up... I turned it in last night and my brain felt squeezed dry.  Apparently I still have words to type though...even though it feels like my thoughts are so fragile... like soap bubbles that would pop the moment I try to touch and access them.  I want to rest.  I want to veg.  But I can't.  This question is plaguing me.

"what do you want me to do for you?"

Jason said it in his sermon yesterday.  It reminded me of the time that I wrote about that question... and it took me like an hour digging through my blog posts trying to find it.  I FINALLY found it... hidden in my post from October 9, 2010.

That for which she longs
is that for which she belongs - Linda Dillow

I also read about the 2 blind men who called out to Jesus.  Jesus stopped and asked them, "what do you want Me to do for you?"

Why would he ask that?  Is it not completely obvious what they want?  Their heart's desire is for their greatest deficit to become restored and made whole, complete, and functional again.  Maybe He just wanted them to ask.

And then I thought about myself.  If you were to look at me... look at my life... if you had to say, "oh that girl there... that's the [fill in the blank]"... what would you fill in that blank for me?

Am I... the nurse?  Am I... that Asian girl?  That bio major? The one who writes those long, boring blogs? What would you say, really?  I want to know.  Curious.

For me... the characteristic that stands out most to me... the aspect that has defined me more than any other... is... that I am a widow. 

And what would the widow ask for?  Like the blind men... I think any widow would ask for his/her greatest deficit to be restored.  It is that for which our hearts ache for, isn't it?  The situation that we wake up to every single day and wish that it weren't so? 

Sometimes, I think I fear asking for it.  I know I have.  But I asked it in timidity... and then moved on as if it were some shameful thing to ask for.  Is that how you would ask for the greatest desire of your heart?

I thought about that question ever since I heard it again.  If Jesus were to ask me right now, "what do you want Me to do for you?"... what would my answer be?  What is the one thing that I would ask for if I could?

I had to stop and think about what I felt the greatest deficits are in my life. I must think about what I don't have if I want to ask for the greatest desire of my heart. 

There was a time when I would have blurted, "I want Anderson back" without hesitation if Jesus were to ask me what I wanted Him to do for me.  I still do want him back, don't get me wrong...but I am promised to be with him forever in eternity so... I don't really need to ask for that.  I just have to be patient and wait for what was promised me.

I went down the line through my list of "wants"... and with every "want", I found that He had already given it to me.  I am well taken care of.

The answer that I thought I came up with was... nothing.  I don't want you to do anything for me, Jesus.  You have done it all already.  What do you want me to do for YOU?  

I had decided that "nothing" was my answer... and then I started to waver.  What about my current singleness?  This was the one "want" that I dwelt on the longest and it is the one "want" that threatened my commitment to my final answer. 

Yesterday was Palm Sunday.  Jason preached about the "triumphal entry" of Jesus into Jerusalem and how it marked the start of Passion Week.  I don't think I'd given much thought to it.  I thought it was a happy affair.  Yay for laying down your coats and putting palm branches down on the floor and crying out "Hosanna!" to Jesus as He mozied on by riding on the donkey.  I'd never given much thought to the fact that a donkey is an animal of dishonor, not an animal of honor.  Cool ppl don't ride donkeys; they ride mighty stallions.  Jason mentioned that Shrek had a donkey.  And that donkey was pretty darn annoying.  So I imagined Jesus riding into Jerusalem on Shrek's donkey.  Jibber jabbering away... with incessant commentary on the color of that cloak or that palm branch is really fibrous or don't step on that little bug... blah blah blah...

I thought about the people of Jerusalem... the Jews of Jesus's day.  They thought the Messiah was coming to overthrow Rome, bring world peace... sit on the throne and rule... and He was... He did... He will.  Just not exactly the way they thought.  It's not that their expectations were too lowly... they were good expectations... but Jesus knew better and Jesus sought to do better than just overthrowing Rome and bringing political freedom.  Jesus came to overthrow sin and bring us ultimate freedom... a hope, a love, a peace, and a joy that lasts for an eternity.  A good king brings peace and happiness to their land... but usually only for the time they're in power.  Jesus's plans extended much higher than earthly reigns and earthly kingdoms... He sits and rules on high... forever and ever... in an eternal kingdom... into which we have been invited to obtain citizenship.  The benefits of living in this kingdom... are eternal.  They can never be taken away... they are ours by virtue of our identity... as princes and princesses of the Most High God.  El Elyon.  And we have been given a glimpse of the abundance of this eternal life... here on earth.  Love.  Joy.  Peace.

So the Jews of that time... and maybe some of us right now... we don't get it.  We don't understand why Jesus would come on a squeaky donkey.  We don't understand why we're still captives of Rome.  We don't understand why we're oppressed... why things have happened the way they have.  Why am I single?  Why was I widowed?  Why did You give me the man of my dreams only to take him away and leave me all alone? And why am I now, almost 30, and even more single than I was when I was 17?  At least at 17, I thought I was surrounded by possibilities.  At 30, it feels like a desert wasteland.  Okay, okay, I'm still 29 but one year isn't going to change anything.  30 sounds more dramatic.  I'm gonna stick with 30. 

LOL... the way I remembered this little excerpt in my head was, "na ah, honey, don't you argue with the process... you ain't done yet."  I laughed when I went back and found what I had actually read. 

In one of George MacDonald's books, one of the characters makes this bitter statement: "I wonder why God made me. I certainly don't see any purpose in it!" Another of the characters responds, "Perhaps you don't see any purpose yet, but then, He isn't finished making you. And besides, you are arguing with the process." - Streams, April 17. 

Maybe the Jews back in the day were meant to be confused about the whole thing.  Maybe since they didn't have the Holy Spirit yet, their spiritual eyes weren't opened and they just couldn't get it.  Or maybe they should have gotten it... maybe it woulda saved them some blood, sweat, and tears if they had remembered throughout the crazy events that this is exactly what Jesus said would happen.  Maybe they just didn't have faith.  When Mary went to the tomb and found it empty... she cried.  And the angel asked her... "why are you crying?"  and I can't remember exactly what she said but she was looking for Jesus's body... and the angel had to remind her that He's not here... He's risen.  And then she was filled with joy.

The strength of our faith is in direct proportion to our level of belief that God will do exactly what He has promised. Faith has nothing to do with feelings, impressions, outward appearances, nor the probability or improbability of an event. If we try to couple these things with faith, we are no longer resting on the Word of God, because faith is not dependent on them. Faith rests on the pure Word of God alone. And when we take Him at His Word, our hearts are at peace. -George Mueller.

So maybe prior to my settling on my "final answer"... maybe I have a little conversation with Jesus first and I ask Him... why things had to be this way... how come I had to go through life like this?  Am I just better when I'm single?  Would having a man in my life hold me back?  Why was I denied the pleasures of being a wife?  Why was I denied motherhood?  Why weren't there any mini Tiffersons?  Wouldn't they have been beautiful little things?  Would it have been too hard to set me up with a little house... just me and my husband... maybe a couple of little Tiffersons... and for me to just live out a nice, peaceful existence?  Why so much drama?  Why all the suffering?  Why all the pain?


And I see Jesus patiently absorbing my "why" questions with a look of perfect peace.  When I finally pause to take a breath... He asks, very gently... "done?"


"I guess.  Are you going to answer all of those questions or some of them or none of them...?"


"I'm answering all of them in two words: trust Me. Just... trust Me." 


"...but..."


"Trust Me"


Trust Him.  He knows better than I do.  My faith in action... is to say OK... and then... wait. Actively wait in anticipation. 

I might not fully get it right now.. but I trust that You are the God you say You are... You will do what You've said You'll do... and You have proven Yourself faithful, steadfast, immutable, and most of all, loving... since the beginning of time.  If You planned it this way... You did it for a reason.  I will wait for your plans to unfold.  I will wait and trust in You. 

Hm... peace...

g'night...g'morning...

<3,
Tiff

oozing obsession

Aye.  I wanted to blog today, or at least finish the entry that I started last week, but I am only just now acceptably caught up with my homework and it's already pretty late (3am).  I'll just write a little bit.  See how much comes out since I've been collecting scattered thoughts throughout the week and searching for an opportunity to type them out.

(started this April 1)

I'm sitting at a Starbucks and I had fully intended on working on schoolwork... but find my thoughts wandering anywhere BUT where it needs to be to debate and discuss the role, scope of practice, and issues surrounding nurse practitioners in health care. 

I've realized today that I'm obsessed with love.  If I could tally the topics that cross my mind on a daily basis... I think "love" would rank at the very top every single day. 

It's a phenomenon.  It's so simple, yet so complicated.  there's so much to ponder theoretically and even more to ponder about the infinite ways to apply it. There is so much to think about with regards to me and my own heart and then when bringing others into the mix... there's even more to consider. I crave it. I yearn for it. I love reading about it.  I love learning how to give it.  I love receiving it.  I think about people and interactions... I think about words, I think about thoughts... I gosh darn think about love ALL THE TIME.  I'm obsessed.  I love "love"


It's a noun, it's a verb... it's... amazing. 

(continued on April 8)

I spent all week thinking about my obsession with love. 

I even mentioned it to a good friend of mine who asked me why I felt I was obsessed with love. All I could think of was what I mentioned above, the fact that I think that we (especially women) are hardwired with a vacuum for love, and the fact that I think I could spend a lifetime pondering, theorizing, pursuing, trying to apply "love" and never be satiated.  Is that what an obsession is?

I named my blog Lavish Love and I'm guessing the majority of my posts have something to do with love if not completely to do with it.

Perhaps it is enigmatic to me and therefore my natural desire to solve problems and better understand myself and the world around me drives me towards this obsession with learning more about love.

As my friend and I were talking about my love obsession, a song started playing at the restaurant... "somebody to love".  We laughed.  Was it Queen's or a remix?  I thought it was kind of a happy song but... now that I'm reading the lyrics, they're not all that happy.

Can anybody find me somebody to love?
Each morning I get up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet
Take a look in the mirror and cry
Lord what you're doing to me
I have spent all my years in believing you
But I just can't get no relief, Lord!
Somebody, somebody
Can anybody find me somebody to love?

I work hard every day of my life
I work till I ache my bones
At the end I take home my hard earned pay all on my own -
I get down on my knees
And I start to pray
Till the tears run down from my eyes
Lord - somebody - somebody
Can anybody find me - somebody to love? 

I've also been having a hard time sleeping lately.  It happens.  It used to happen a lot before I got married.  I think I found a lot of peace and comfort in sleeping next to Anderson.  We used to hold hands while sleeping.  He said that my hand would go searching for his, even when I was sleeping, and wouldn't rest until it found his.  Anyway, back to my insomnia issues... I used to start a DVD commentary or a documentary (like March of the Penguins) so that I could have some noise to fall asleep to.  It's not that DVD commentaries or documentaries are necessarily boring... maybe it's just the droning sound of voices or maybe it's reminiscent of a college lecture... it somehow helps put me to sleep.  One documentary that I've been choosing to "put me to sleep" lately is Paper Heart.  I don't know if any of you have seen it.  It's about this Asian girl, Charlene, who doesn't believe in love, doesn't believe she'll ever fall in love, and thus goes around interviewing people and asking them to define love, talk about their experiences with love, and just... talk about love.  People have such... wide and varied definitions of what they think love is.  It's interesting and fascinating to see how people approach it.

One of the guys that Charlene interviewed said that what was tricky about finding the love of your life is that even if you find the person who is your true love... you might not be that person's true love. Honestly, I don't think that guy knows what true love is because he was talking about dreams and near-death moments and someone's face popped into his mind and he said that his ex-wife was his true love because of that experience and not the girl that he's longing for but who's in a relationship with someone else... I don't know.  It really shouldn't be so complicated.

And then there are so many songs about cheating. Was it Rihanna who sang, "don't tell me you're sorry when you're not... when you're only sorry you got caught...".  Or Jason Derulo who sang that he's sorry he got caught cheating, he only meant well... that when he becomes a star, they'll be living so large, he'd do anything for her... then why'd he cheat on her? why wouldn't he do anything for her now? ...or Eminem's songs about how he hates her but he can't leave because he loves her but he'll tie her to the bed and set the house on fire?  It's... sad and baffling... what happens in a dysfunctional relationship between two people in the name of "love".  

You know... for the amount of songs written about love and all the different viewpoints and aspects of love that are floating out there... you would think that American culture or even the English language would have more words defining the different types of love. Like wasn't there some tribe in Africa or something that had no words for one color but then like 20 words describing different kinds of red? (ok I'm probably totally mistaken right now but I thought I heard something like that somewhere...) Perhaps the Greeks love "love" more than anyone else because they actually have different words defining the different types of love. Why can't we have that?  Or are we just supposed to use the Greek words because they've already been invented and labeled? 

I don't know all the Greek love words... the few I can think of right now are phileo, eros, and agape.  Knowing me... I could be totally wrong and they're not even Greek.  Is it another language?  Whatevers.

Wouldn't it be helpful to know... if someone says "I love you"... if they're actually saying "I phileo you" or "I eros you" or "I agape you"?  Then you could be like... ok well... I phileo you too... or... hm... you might eros me but I phileo you, so see ya later, buddy, we're not looking for the same thing.  Somehow it just sounds so strange, but I think that it would help to better communicate what someone actually means when they say, "I love you" and what it means to say it back.

Anyway, to continue that conversation I was having with my friend... I think we decided that it was kind of a good thing... if my obsession with love is centered on God and His love, primarily. 

And then I re-read the little tagline thing that I wrote underneath my blog title.  Most of you probably don't read this directly from my blog so you probably didn't even notice when I changed the black (mourning) background to sky blue with flowers and clouds or some kind of abstract prettiness... and maybe this will be the first time you're reading this... but this blog is entitled Lavish Love with the subtitle/dedication or description being...

...the overflow from the heart of an ordinary girl, refined by the fire of widowdom & captivated by the breath-takingly lavish love of her God--- For Anderson. 6/27/81-7/22/09. I'll see you soon, my love.

God's love has captivated me.  It takes my breath away.  It makes sense that I would have an obsession for love and then when I found the source of the most perfect, the most amazing love beyond my greatest imagination... that it would take my breath away and captivate my heart and mind... and soul.  Totally makes logical sense to me. 

This post is really scattered and all over the place and I want to sleep so I'm going to end it prematurely... maybe I'll have to continue it another day... but...  here are the remainders of the scattered thoughts...in no particular order or flow of logic.


Steps for life: (1) God loves us (2) I love God (3) I love others.  When I keep my mind and my life running in this sequential order... all is well and all is peaceful.  I talked for days on these 3 steps at retreat.  I think the only way I was able to give like 4 messages on these steps is because... I'm obsessed. Good times, good times.   

I still talk about the retreat I went to with 7 Tiffany/Tiffanie's.  <3

To love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength... is to be consumed with loving God... every single aspect of my life... dedicated to loving God...

Sometimes... not all the time... but sometimes... I'm really sensitive (and appreciative, I think...) of the love I receive from people.  Lately, I've been feeling very loved.  I think sometimes... when God knows that I'm being tormented by certain things... He brings people into my life to remind me that I'm loved and I'm beautiful... even if it's a creepy patient who says "you're so pretty..." and follows it with a sinister laugh at least 3x every time I go into the room.

I've been so busy lately that I've decided to cut down my hanging out activities to one person per day off and... also... that I won't go actively pursuing people to hang out with me... but that (at least for now), I will make an effort to hang out with people who initiate with me first.  Initially, I thought that my schedule would totally clear out because I'm usually the initiator... since I clean out my inbox every month or so and follow up on emails people have failed to return me... or if I think about someone, I'll just contact them and ask how they're doing and if they want to meet up... but yeah.  So I used to think that I was the major initiator... but during the past few months that I've been allowing other people to initiate with me... I'm finding that... a lot of people actually want to hang out with me... and... I might be wrong... but I think that means that... people like me.  LOL.  Anyway... having people initiate with me...really speaks loudly to my love languages.  I feel so, so loved when people pursue me.  And I'm not writing this to get you to initiate with me, my friend... I'm still growing and learning how to manage my time wisely... but for now... this is what I've allowed for myself... and it's also giving me a little more freedom to let go of some things that I don't have as much time for nowadays. 

I got a chance to meet up with someone special... someone who I thought I might not get to see this side of eternity... but who has blessed me immensely... and who also made a very large effort to hang out with me... and I felt so loved by her. 

This is me almost poking her eye out with my floppy hat.

And then today... I decided to walk around the mall... in pursuit of a pair of black pants I thought I wanted... I think I tried on like 5 pairs of pants... no luck.  And then I randomly walked by a store and one of the t-shirts caught my eye.  It had a Bible verse on it... but it looked pretty hip.  I was intrigued.  I looked at the fliers at the door and there was one for Calvary Chapel lying in a messy heap of paper.  Even more intrigued.  This store looked a little like hot topic... but had Christian music playing and wall-to-wall Christian t-shirts that didn't look like something I would automatically throw into a donation bin (sorry... it's the harsh truth...).  When I walked in, a salesman came up to me and asked me if I've ever been in the store before, I said no.  He asked me if I knew what the name of the store meant and I said no.  So he proceeded to tell me that it the store name, C28, stands for Colossians 2:8.  I said, wow.  He said, is that a good wow or a bad wow.  I said, a good wow.  It made me happy.  It made me so happy I felt like buying t-shirts. It almost made me wish that I actually wore these kinds of t-shirts, but... I don't think I will... So 3 lucky friends are getting the t-shirts I bought from this store.  And it's so funny... that the t-shirts I bought say, "His love...never fails".  I'm telling you, I'm obsessed. 

it's not much, but it's all I have.

There were so many shirts... so many having to do with love and God's love, the vine, trees... etc. etc.  It made me happy to see artwork about my obsession.  It almost felt like I had gone to an art show... I was so intensely interested in so many of the shirts... shirts that I liked to look at, but couldn't see myself wearing. One shirt in particular caught my eye.  I stared at it for so long I almost cried.  It was so simple, and yet so profound. My heart... my tiny, 2D heart... is not much, but it's all I have to offer.  It's not much... but it's also the most precious thing I have to give.  I was writing some relationship advice to a friend of mine...I wrote it over a month ago and I still think on the words I wrote... and I remind myself of it from time to time because even though I wrote it and I fully believe it... I forget so easily.  

The heart is so precious.  It cannot be bought and it cannot be faked.  It is what makes life meaningful... it is from the heart that our passions arise... from where our joys radiantly exude... save it.  It is precious.  It is the most precious gift you can offer your future wife.

So I was thinking these words as I was staring at this shirt.  I saw me, offering my heart to God.  I saw Anderson offering his heart to me.  I saw a child, offering his little heart to... someone... a parent?  to God? How would anyone NOT melt into a little puddle on the floor if someone were offering their little heart to you in the likeness of this little guy? I literally almost cried in that store.  Anyway. 

When I was checking out at the register, the salesman... I can't remember if it was the same one or a different one... was just so nice.  He gave me an extra 15% off because it was my first time at the store.  He said that it was the store policy to donate 10% of the sale to one of three ministries of my choice... I chose the Mercy ministry.  And then he asked me something I've never been asked by a retail store checkout guy... he asked me if I had any prayer requests.  I don't know if they ask everybody or if he saw something in me that prompted him to say that... but he asked.  I was taken aback.  I didn't know what to say.  So many prayer requests rushed through my mind, but the only one that came out was "I've got a lot of homework".  And I do have a lot of homework.  I was up until 3am doing homework this morning.  Someone else put their shirts on the counter to pay so I took my bag and was about to walk away... when he asked me if it was OK if he prayed for me right now.  So he prayed for me, over the checkout counter at the Santa Ana Mainplace Mall.  I was really fighting hard... to hold back tears with my head bowed... as a stranger prayed for me and my homework... and prayed for me as a whole person as well.  I don't think I've ever felt so loved at the mall.  LOL.  I left that store with such a huge smile on my face... so happy to have been ministered to in the most unexpected way in an unexpected place.  God loves Tiff in such amazing ways.

And lastly... because I really really need to sleep now... another friend said something to me which continues to make me laugh...  she said "you ooze".  Ooze!  When I think of the word "ooze"... I think of green or yellow purulent drainage oozing out of a patient's obviously infected (and totally nasty) wound ... I think of my muffin oozing over the top of my jeans... not very lovely mental images.... but she said I ooze love and joy.  It made me laugh when I first read it and I kept thinking about it over and over again throughout the night.  If I had to ooze anything, I'd be happy to ooze love and joy.  Thank you, Yealee, for telling me that I ooze.  LOL.

btw, the tv show thing is scheduled to air on April 18, 10am and 6pm... on a Korean satellite channel unbeknownst to me... but will be posted on the KAC website shortly after. 

good night/morning, loves.
<3,
Tiff

love: competing vs. complementing

Today is the ides of March.  Yeah.  No deep thoughts about that.  I was just thinking about the date today and... it is what it is.

I have so many jumbled thoughts in my head... I just feel like writing...kinda like how Forrest Gump "just felt like running".

I cried a little bit here and there yesterday while catching up with some good friends.  If I don't have time to write, then talking out my thoughts is the next best thing.  I cried a little when I looked through a scrapbook  on the coffee table and saw a page that Anderson had created.  I read what he wrote.  It made me both laugh and cry and miss him so much... all at the same time.  I cried a little when I had the realization that... Anderson is just a part of my life... a very large part of it, but just a part of it nonetheless.  I know life goes on and it has. I know that I will not stop living and growing (old... ugh), and I'm working now and going to school... and hanging out with friends... and all of this happens now without him physically here on this earth... but the thought of him just being a part of, and not the consummate whole, of my life... made me cry.  Somehow... together forever... wasn't quite "forever" for me.  Although it will be...

Actually... together forever... is the reality.  This separation is actually just a small part of it.  Hm.  Very true, very true.

Anyway, so reminiscing yesterday... made me want to go back and look at the scrapbook that Anderson made for me.  He gave it to me as part of his proposal.  And in case some of you forgot... because I actually haven't thought about it in a long time... I wanted to reminisce and tell it to you again.  Somehow when people ask me about Anderson... hardly anyone asks about how he proposed to me.  Maybe all the other exciting things that happened after that seem to overshadow this part of the Tifferson story, but it's still important to me and I'm just going to tell it again.

Not yet.  Not finished with my thoughts yet.  Hold your horses.

One of the things that I was scared to death about losing was our memories.  Some things I remember and I don't know WHY I do... and a lot of things I forget.  I forget so many things.  It kinda works in my favor sometimes... but... for this... for my memories with Anderson... I was absolutely scared to lose them.  We spent countless moments saying, "remember when..." and almost every night we spent in the hospital... I'd have a "remember when..." moment with him.  At least one... more likely lots and lots.  I liked that there was someone who would remember with me... someone who shared these moments with me and could bring me back "in a flash" to those good times.  It seems like a lot of my friends now... either haven't met him or hardly knew him.  I guess that just means that I've made a lot of new friends or that life has moved on... or that God brings me lots and lots of people with whom I can share our story with. 

I'm very, very thankful that he decided to make me a scrapbook.  Anderson was not a big writer.  He actually was a man of fairly few words.  It amazed me to think about all the ways in which he'd grown to show me he loved me in ways that speak to me the loudest... that were totally against his natural tendencies.  On the first page, he wrote,

"I hope you enjoy looking through this book more than I've enjoyed making this for you." 

And I did.  I do.  This man... my beloved... preserved some of our best memories specifically for me... to have a "remember when..." moment with me long after our conversations about them have ended.   It's like he knew and prepared beforehand.  I feel so... loved.

So I had a date with my husband, first thing when I woke up this morning.  I haven't been sleeping well lately.  It was nice to wake up and decide to spend some time with him.  In reading the words he wrote for me... his love notes... I was reminded of his personality... the things that he used to say... the jokes we used to make... our sayings... and all the silly things we used to do together.  We were so young and definitely so in love.  If this book weren't about me... I might be sick at how disgustingly lavish our love was.  Every single picture... is filled with so much love and joy... every page was thought through and designed with loving care.  So much meaning.  So much love.  OMG I can barely stand it.

OK.  I think I'm ready to start telling the story of our engagement.

I think I've mentioned it before... but in case you forgot... Anderson told me he loved me 2 weeks after we started dating.  LOL.  He's so crazy.  He also used to joke about the first time we went to McDonald's together... about how I paid for his hot fudge sundae and it made him fall in love with me.  $1.  Who knew the ticket to his heart was such a deal? 

So... he loved me 2 weeks after dating me... and I waited 5 years after that for him to propose.  And just as a little secret that I may or may not have ever told him (I forget...)... I was already waiting for him to propose after our 2-year mark... so... yeah.  You can call me patient and long-suffering but... God and I both know that I was far from it at the time.  I was frustrated all the time with everyone and everything... and I simply was not ready to get married even though I had completely convinced myself I was.  And Anderson was a pretty slow-moving type of a person.  Pretty much my complete and total opposite... but... my complement. 

So it was June 2008.  As far as the brain cancer saga... this was his first recurrence after his initial surgery in 2006.  The tumor kept growing at an alarming rate despite having changed his chemo twice, so the doctors had decided to operate again.  The only thing was that UCLA medical center was in the process of moving into the new hospital building so they weren't scheduling any surgeries at the moment.  His surgery was scheduled for July... so we had to wait.

It was a random Monday.  I had gone to the gym after summer school (I was in nursing school at the time) and then I went over to his house.  I was gross and I hadn't showered.  I remember being really sad.  I can't remember what we were talking about, but I'm pretty sure it was something to do with the "what ifs" and the thought of not being together forever... why it had to happen to us... and I remember that we were holding each other and crying together.  And then... I also remember... that we prayed.  We prayed and as we were praying... we stopped crying.  I really don't remember what was said, but I do remember being flooded with peace and hope... and that the tears of sadness had stopped flowing.

Anderson then proceeded to walk to his little shelf and he pulled out a scrapbook.  I'd found that scrapbook before in his room and he lied to me and told me that he bought it for his sister and her baby.  He handed me the scrapbook and on the cover were pictures of us.  Happy pictures.  Pictures from his graduation, from a cruise we went on, from a valentine's we spent on the beach, at the OC fair when we went to see Alton Brown, from retreat... and a picture of the bench that we had our first special conversation. That conversation on the bench was the first time he told me that he wasn't going to go to culinary school or finish applying for an FBI job... he was going to go back to Brazil to work for his parents.  It wasn't because he didn't have options... it was because they'd loved him so much that he wanted to return their love by taking over the family business.  I didn't have much to say.  It hit me that he was special and remarkable.  I told him, "you're a good person".  And that was that.  But it was a meaningful and memorable conversation... and we often frequented that bench every time we would go back to visit Balboa Island.  It was "our" bench.

I opened the scrapbook.  Page after page of our most special memories.  Our "remember when..." moments.  I started to cry again, but these were no longer tears of sadness... they were tears that flowed from a heart overwhelmed by the love this man had for me.  I tried my best to read even though my vision was blurred with tears.  While I was reading... he went and got the ring.  When I had reached the last page, he got down both knees, opened the box and asked me if I would make him the happiest man on earth by being his wife.

from the email blast I sent that night...

As of about 9pm June 16, 2008, Anderson and I are engaged.

Here is my "bling".  The prettiest, shiniest, tiniest and although 2nd most expensive thing I own (after my car), it is the most meaningful hunk of carbon and gold of my entire life.

He hadn't gotten a chance to finish the scrapbook before proposing.  As we were waiting for his surgery, his coordination was getting worse... he would get dizzy really easily... and he was tired all the time. 

He'd made a few more pages for me after the surgery... even after he had double vision, which made it extremely difficult to be on the computer and photoshop.  He made a page reminding me about our engagement.  He also wrote down his side of the story "in case you don't remember very clearly, here is the moment in writing".  How'd he know?

He also made me a page titled Tiffany Ng Chen.  :)  He knew that I didn't like the hassle of having to always tell people how to pronounce my last name... so he took care of that for me too by making me a Chen.  At the end of that page, he wrote, "I promise to take care of you always, darling.  I promise to make you the happiest person forever". 

The very last page of the scrapbook... had a picture of the first time we went to San Diego together.  We'd gone to the cliffs... the same cliffs that I'd returned with his ashes in a ziploc snack baggie... the same cliffs where I'm pictured in my FB profile pic with the hat and sunglasses...

It wasn't this picture, but it was similar to this one.  He'd photoshopped it more to bring out the sunset behind us.  Or maybe he invented a sunset behind us... I dunno.  This is what he wrote:

Throughout my entire life I've never met anyone like you. I never thought I could miss someone so much until I left for my first trip to Brazil. I never thought I'd love someone so much that I'd practically risk everything just to see a smile on that beautiful face. I never thought a person like you existed. Thank you darling for being my best friend, girlfriend and fiancee. Thank you for our future together. Thank you for loving me unconditionally.

How did I get so lucky?  How did I ever find someone who would love me like this?  He loved me in action and he learned how to love me through words.  It was consistent... through and through.  I think the answer is that it didn't happen by accident and that we were a match made in heaven... by the God who created both of us... for Him and also for each other.

As I laid there in bed with a tear-soaked face... I pondered how my heart could have had enough room to love a man with so much of myself... and love God at the same time... and how it were possible to have room to love anyone else on top of that.  How is it possible to be so consumed with love, to receive it and give it so generously and lavishly...?  How is there any love left for God or anyone else? 

Honestly... at the time... I'm pretty sure I loved Anderson first and foremost and God next.  God was patient with me though... patiently and lovingly waiting for me... happy to provide me with all the desires that I thought I'd wanted and even more than I could ask or think... and yet He had still saved the best for afterwards.  It was like breadcrumbs leading to the candy house and Anderson was the cupcake at the doorstep.  I loved the cupcake.  It wasn't until the cupcake was gone that I realized that it was God who gave me the cupcake to lead me to the candy mansion that He had prepared for me and Himself.  For us.

Inside the candy mansion is where I was meant to be... not at the doorstep with a cupcake.  Wow. That was a weird sentence.

I can't remember where I'd read it but I do remember jotting down a verse and then drawing pictures of the images of my understanding of the verse.  It was kinda like this...

Don't you love my paint skills?  In case it's so ugly it's unrecognizable... me by myself... I have a small heart and small hands.  Me with God... my heart is expanded and my hands are as well.  When it's me and God... my heart grows to be more like His... with a love more like His... with a depth and breadth of love more like His... and consequently... there is more than enough for me to give... especially when loving God and loving my husband are in perfect congruency with one another.  They are not competing forces... they are complementing... and what is it called when one causes an increase in another and it just keeps getting bigger and bigger and bigger?  Exponential growth?  That's what it's like. 

Loving God makes it possible for me to love my husband and also love others.  In fact, I think it's probably the only way it was possible for our love to grow in the deepest darkness, amidst the heavy torrential storms of our lives.

And this kind of love... so pure... so joyful... so all-encompassing... you cannot help but to love in return.  Anderson loved me first with this kind of love and he helped teach me how to love him in return... which in turn, helped teach me how to love God in return... to love the giver of the cupcake after loving the cupcake.

I also did want to mention... the sermon from a few weeks ago... Pastor Dan preached on Ezekiel.  I cried a lot during that sermon.  When he preached about the love between a husband and a wife... the love that compelled the husband to choose someone who was discarded in the wilderness... dirty and worthless... despised by the world... that's how I felt.  I felt like the one who was left out in the world... dirty, helpless and left to die.  Until I was chosen... redeemed... cleaned up and clothed in fine clothes... and I was taken as a wife in the mansion of a king... not a servant, but a wife.  Elevated to the highest place in the household... adorned with jewels... with my bling thing.  This is a love that redeems.  This is a love that gives us worth and meaning in a world that hates us.  This is no ordinary love.  This is a love that drives me to reciprocate.

And yet... what if... instead of appreciating that love... instead of dwelling in the mansion that my husband gave me... what if I took my jewels... my precious engagement ring which is the symbolic culmination of the precious love of my beloved for me... what if I took that ring and gave it to some random guy I saw on the side of the freeway as payment for him to have a one night stand with me?  Isn't that utterly disgusting?  What betrayal?  What audacity... how dare I squander the precious jewels given to me by the king... to prostitute myself... nay... worse than prostitute because prostitutes get paid... but for me to PAY someone with the jewels given to me as a gift... to whore myself to any passerby.  Despicable.  Despicable me.  I can't even find a word that fully describes how heinously disgusting this situation is... and not only that... to imagine the heartbreak of my husband to find that the jewel he so lovingly chose for me... the ring that Anderson had custom-made for my finger... with the diamond that he chose because it sparkled and shone so much more than the others he saw... that I would just throw it away like trash to someone who doesn't love me and who will leave me dirty, empty, broken, and worthless like the person I was before he redeemed me.   Oh pierce my heart and bleed me out before I do that to my beloved.  And yet, this is what we do to God every single time we choose anything that we feel will fulfill us and our fleshly desires.  The guy on the street who doesn't even know my name... who will take my jewel not as a token of love, but as something that he will turn around and sell for his own gain... he will not satisfy.  So... don't leave the candy mansion... keep my bling on my finger... and don't pursue other lovers... pursue THE Lover of my soul... as my one and only.  Fidelity... and faithfulness... loyalty... and devotion... and walk in a manner worthy of my calling... of my inheritance... of my position in the candy mansion.

Ok.  It's been a very long time that I've been sitting here and writing.  I must be getting rusty. 

I just wanted to end with something that my friend, Laurie (shout out!), wrote for me... to help me put into words what I felt in my heart.  When I was asked what I felt was Anderson's legacy... all I could come up with was one word... and that word was "love".  This is what she wrote, which I think elaborates so eloquently what I had only felt but couldn't nail down:

=)  i have two answers for this question...

1. YOU are anderson's legacy.  not in some cheesy superficial way, but that through all that he went through, anderson taught you how to love God more and propelled you to be this catalyst for so many others to come to Christ and praise God more.  you are living proof of anderson's goodness and kindness which is now manifested in every blog you write, message you give, and each time you care for a patient.   you are continuing his message of faith and hope.  his love for you overflowed into thousands of other people's lives...

2. this is a more global answer.  i think anderson was used by God to bring glory to Himself.  he was just this regular guy who God used in amazing ways and i think he took pride in the fact that he didn't have to be this grandiose, spectacular figure to accomplish great things.  he accomplished great things with so much humility and never pretended to be anything he wasn't.  he didn't preach publicly, but somehow preached to each person he knew.  he didn't travel the world professing God's name and yet he managed to tell people around the world of God's glory.  anderson left this world with so much dignity that people who don't even know him have the greatest respect for him.  that's pretty amazing. 

It IS pretty amazing, isn't it?  God is so good.  C'est si bon.

ashamed

There's so much I haven't told you guys that I'm almost ashamed.  OK.  I actually am ashamed.  I didn't realize it until after things started coming out of my mouth while talking to people last week that... I've been hiding out of fear and living in a way that... I don't want to live.  Let me just back up and explain...

February was a pretty epic month for me.  The phrase "never a dull moment" has pretty much summed up nearly every day of my life since the beginning of 2009, but this past February... I can't deny that the events have left me awestruck... both at the series of events that led up to it and at the personal growth and journey that prepared me for it.

So... about the hiding... I'd been so busy the month of February... with school, with work, with friends... that I got to the point where I was freaking out and stressed out about all I had to get done in the very little amount of time that I left myself to do it.  This kind of happens to me a lot.  I don't ask for help when I should and lately, I haven't been saying no to as much things as I should too because... well... seeing people is really important to me and as much as it does take up time... it does rejuvenate my heart and spirit too.  I'd been making poor choices though.

Dealing with what was on my plate for February... I really should have asked for more help... and not only that... I should have asked for more prayer.  I didn't want to ask because I didn't want to have to explain.  I know everyone cares so much that they want to know why and what happened and this and that but at the time, I felt that it was such a hassle so I only told a few people and whoever happened to run into me in the days prior.  I'm not sure if all the people I shared with could tell that I was freaking out, but... I totally was.  I was also getting frustrated at myself for not asking for more prayer and for almost being embarrassed to do so. 

On February 21st, I did something I never thought I'd do in my entire lifetime.  I went on a talkshow.  LOL.  Not only that, I was interviewed for a 30-minute segment on the Tifferson story.  Who'da thunk it?

I remember telling two of my friends about it and I started shaking as I was talking about it and I didn't even know I had started shaking until they pointed it out.

I remember having girly breakdowns and, seriously... how is it that out of all my girlfriends... only one person, who is a guy, actually asked me what I was going to be wearing?  I was actually very concerned about this. LOL. 

OK so... the whole story is that last February 2010, I submitted an article to Inheritance Magazine about the Tifferson story which was published in their May issue.  The host to this show called the Upper Room, read that article and contacted me to ask if I would be willing to go on her show.  That was last year.  We had postponed 3x due to scheduling conflicts, but finally set a date for February 2011.  I actually forgot that the interview was coming until maybe 6 days prior.  I spent those 6 days in near freak-out mode.

I had my final synthesis paper to work on for my nursing theory class and this interview to prepare for... while going to work full-time.  I know it doesn't really sound like a lot compared to what some others have to juggle, but for me... it was verging on stressful.  This entire time of grieving Anderson, I had pushed myself to open up instead of retreat in response to my stress.  I don't know what craziness happened this time.  I just didn't want to tell people that this was happening.  I didn't want it to seem like I was bragging. I just wanted people to pray for me but I didn't want to have to explain the whole thing.  Sorry.  :(  What ended up happening was that I didn't ask for more prayer and I didn't allow other people to minister to me more in ways that they could have had they known.  I robbed myself of receiving a lot, I'm sure. 

Why didn't I want to ask for prayer or help?  I don't know.  Why wouldn't I want to share with others what God was doing in my life?  Am I crazy?  Yeah.  Probably.  Why did I suddenly get so ashamed?

My friend and I had decided to change our Bible reading plan this year.  For the past two years, we did the Bible-in-a-year.  I think we both decided that this year we wanted to do something less hard-core so we decided to do a 100-day overview of the Bible instead.  Well, for the first 100 days of the year and then we'll pick something else when those 100 days are done.  Thankfully... God used this 100-day plan to remind me of very important people in the Bible with whom God had chosen and called to proclaim His message to Israel and/or other people.  Moses, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Jonah... and I heard myself say all the things that they said and I also didn't hear myself say things that they did.

Me and my homeboys, Moses and Jeremiah, were all afraid that we weren't going to be good speakers.  We wouldn't know what to say.  Ask someone else! I'm too young! I half joked, was half serious, about writing out my answers to the interview questions and paying someone else to just read them on the screen for me. 

And then there's Isaiah... who said, "here I am, send me".  Did I say that?  No. (shame).  But I somehow ended up doing it anyway.  Probably because I agreed to it almost a year ago before thinking about it.

I felt God speaking to me as He spoke to my Jewish homeboys.

The LORD said to [Tiff], “Who gave human beings their mouths? Who makes them deaf or mute? Who gives them sight or makes them blind? Is it not I, the LORD?  Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.” Exodus 4:11-12

 “[Tiffany Ng Chen], I knew you before I formed you in your mother’s womb.
      Before you were born I set you apart
      and appointed you as my prophet to the nations [or blogger to whoever wants to read on the internet...].”
“Don’t say, ‘I’m too young,’ for you must go wherever I send you and say whatever I tell you. And don’t be afraid of the people, for I will be with you and will protect you. I, the Lord, have spoken!”  Jeremiah 1:5-8

Aye.  Oh, Tiff, of little faith.  God didn't ask me to go to the White House and ask Obama for citizenship for all the illegal aliens living in the U.S.  He didn't ask me to go stand on the steps of a courthouse or roam the streets of vegas and preach repentance from your sinful ways to avoid death and destruction.  All He did was provide a way for me to bring my face, my voice, and the wonderful story of the masterfully beautiful things He has done in my and Anderson's life to all those avid watchers of Korean Christian satellite TV whenever the Upper Room airs.  It'll also be posted on their website after it airs.  No worries.  You don't have to go out and subscribe to Korean satellite TV. 

And as a side note... I think all Jonah said was "Forty more days and Nineveh will be overthrown"... up and down the streets of Nineveh stinking like the fish guts and the entire city repented.  It's not what I say or what I look like... if God calls me to go and say what He wants me to say... no amount of externals or eloquence will affect His message. And it's not even my message.  It's His.  It's God's testimony of love for me.  How dare I try to hide it?  Am I ashamed of His love? 

February 21st... was such a blessed, joy-filled day.  Even though I hadn't spent much time preparing what I was going to say... God provided a friend who interviewed me on the phone so I could practice having my responses come out of my mouth.  You know I can write all the live long day about this or that or nothing in particular, but to have it come out of my mouth was a different story.   God also provided 3 very special sisters to generously and graciously come with me to provide moral, spiritual, and emotional support...and to document the day with pictures. :)  February 21st was also a holiday so God took care of the traffic for me too. He knows how much driving in LA freaks me out. And food joy.  God provided food joy for me too in the form of gourmet sausages, fries and more french macarons than I probably should have eaten. I was also surprised with getting a chance to eat with and laugh with some of my cousins in LA, and then having tea/coffee with a college friend. I've only been 29 for a month and it's already shaping up to be a big year.  I'm getting bigger too. 

God also canceled a lot of my plans for the following week so that I would have time to work on my synthesis paper.  I didn't even have to tell people that I couldn't come out... they canceled for me on their side.  God takes such good care of me... I love it.  :)

Anyway, so I walked onto the set and I thought to myself... "woah".  Kinda like how Neo was like "I know kung fu" in the Matrix and then Morpheus was like "show me"... that's kinda how I felt walking onto that set.  Like Jesus just called me out from the boat and had the awesome realization that I was walking on water... doing the impossible... and it had absolutely nothing to do with me... it was all Him.  Even as I was talking... I felt like my brain had disconnected from my mouth and someone else was speaking for me.  So seriously... whatever good comes out of this... however many more people (or maybe no one) are reached as a result of my obedience to go where He called me to go... it is seriously not because of me... I was just the weak, broken, faithless tool that He used to show His glory and power to do the impossible. 

Jesus immediately reached out his hand and took hold of [Tiff], saying to [her], "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?" Matt. 14:31.

I had such a high that I wanted to blog that day... but I chose instead to spend the time writing my paper.  Probably a good choice.  I did finish that paper very nearly on schedule, proofread it and turned it in on time.  Finishing that paper... also, an act of God.  I gave myself an impossibly small amount of time to get it done and still somehow finished it.  I can't speak for how good it is... but God had also sustained me through the entire term... I calculated and I can seriously get a 50% on this synthesis paper and still get a B in the class.  I don't think I'll get a 50%.  Or at least I hope not.  75% at least.  That'll put me at a very solid A-. 

I'm glad I decided to write today... even though it's entirely unfocused and without any deep thoughts or insights.  I've been emotionally constipated all day.  I came home from work and I wanted to cry but couldn't.  If I tell you all the reasons why... it might double the length of this blog.  Eh.  If you got this far... maybe you'll go a little further.

I worked the last four nights.  Hey.  Didn't I say that the last time I blogged?  Anyway... this was a really hard set of shifts to get through.  I was SO tired in between shifts that I overslept every single day and barely made it on time to work every single shift.  I was dragging myself by the time I got to the fourth shift.  This is quite unusual for me even though it seems like very few nurses do 4 in a row.  I think I went to work feeling a little slow and a little dead inside.  I did read a little on my phone, on the toilet before work... about spiritual eyes and ears... how it is such a gift from God to be able to see and hear Him speak in the situations and the words that happen all around us.  Without spiritual eyes and ears... big things just pass us by... we can be hit in the face with big truths and not be aware of it... like how Jesus straight up told the disciples that He was going to die and be resurrected and yet it was still news to them when it happened.

I don't even think I consciously asked for it... but God gave me spiritual eyes at work last night... I think.  So without going into a lot of detail... there was a patient on the floor who had been seriously neglected.  Someone had found him on the street, took him to the ER and ER didn't even bother much with him... just sent him to the floor.  Everything about this patient was EW, EW, EW.  The way he looked, the way he smelled, what was wrong with him... it gave me shivers just to overhear a little bit of report.  He was in my hallway, but not my patient.  My heart was like "GROSS OUT!!!" and then... I got convicted.  I heard the words of Jesus in my head telling me... that what you've done to the least of these, you've done to me.  So when he came out of his room... I looked into his (really scary) eyes and was like... "Jesus, are you in there?"

I felt so bad that I had judged a patient by his cover.  It all came flooding on me about how nicely we'd treat someone who was pressed and pretty and give them the best seat of the house and then give someone else a little spot on the floor in the back.  We had to call a code grey on this patient... it means that he was getting combative and he did leave AMA (against medical advice).  There were a LOT of nurses running away from him as he was leaving... and a few of us running after him.  It must have been such a sight.  Little Asian girl in a yellow isolation gown and green gloves... with the AMA paperwork and a pen in one hand... running after a rogue patient and the security guards.  I eventually got pushed out of the way by the guys and some security guards but as I was watching them argue and fight their way through the situation... I very nearly burst into tears.  If that was Jesus in there... I was very "EW, GROSS, YUCKY!" and it made me sad... that if Jesus were walking by me on the road to Calvary that I might have been saying the same thing to Him.  I thought very little about it all shift, but the whole situation bothered me a lot.  It didn't really hit me until I came home and then I really felt like crying, but couldn't. Ashamed.  Where was the love of God flowing through me?  What kind of actions were flowing out of my spring of life (reference Prov 4:23 Watch over your heart with all diligence for from it flow the springs of life)?  Not the good kind. 

I slept and slept and slept after work.  I think I slept almost 10 hours.  I had to push aside thinking about hospital work so I could get some schoolwork done... but God still brought people to text me and email me through the night... to remind me that I am loved and that He still hears the cries of my heart.  I even started to tell myself that I wasn't going to schedule any more hangouts this month... that I was packing things too tightly and that if people want to hang out with me, I'll just let them contact me instead of pursuing them... and then a friend randomly texted and asked to hang out.  Oh what joy.  :)

There's still more I could write about the past few weeks but I think it's gotten long enough for now.  I have no resolution to my emotional constipation... I still haven't cried yet... but even as I sit and think about how amazing February was... I once again stand in awe.  Even through all the ways in which I have been shamed... He still shows me that He loves me in very tangible ways.  I feel a little better.  Looking fwd to some days off from work to rest more and recuperate and spend more time working on filling my spring of life with that love... so amazing... so divine... that demands my soul, my life, my all...  

<3,
Tiff